The Problem with Having Beautiful Boyfriends
by silverglitters
Summary: In which Tezuka Kunimitsu keeps on getting turned on in the most inappropriate times.


**AN: **I'm in the middle of a huge slump right naow :( My friend who's majoring in Lit suggested writing other things (for 'fresh air' or something, I didn't really get it) so here I am, writing oneshots. There's more where this came from, but they're all mostly unfinished. Because I'm in a slump -is sad-

**WARNINGS:** Um. Mentions of having erections, and getting turned on, and _maybe_ doing it (but only if you squint really hard and tilt your head to the side) I'm not entirely sure what rating this should be, so I'm putting it in T because they don't really do it, but if you guys think this should be switched up, just tell me :) Oh, and warnings for me, trying to be funny (because I'm not).

* * *

**The Problem with Having Beautiful Boyfriends**

(Or: In which Tezuka Kunimitsu keeps on getting turned on in the most inappropriate times)

* * *

It's not that Tezuka was complaining.

Really, he wasn't.

Because Fuji was beautiful, played exceptional tennis, possessed a challenging wit and glorious insight, and Tezuka was pretty sure that Fuji can have any member of the male or female populace eating out of the palm of his hand with just the smallest of his pretty smiles.

But Fuji liked Tezuka (and _thank the gods _for that. Because... _Well._ Tezuka liked Fuji. Obviously).

And really, how many teenagers could confess to being loved by probably the most challenging, most maddening, most exhilirating person on earth (even if said exhilirating person had a questionable sense of botanical preferences, and an even more questionable sense of taste)?

Yup, just Tezuka.

And Tezuka understood that no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, he was still a teenager, and as such, he possessed the crazed teenage anatomy and everything that went along with it. If Tezuka had his way, he would have shut down every last bit of insane-activity-inducing hormones by now, but Tezuka _understood_ that sometimes, he had no control over his bodily urges.

Tezuka had been fourteen and in love (with Fuji, obviously) when he first learned that telling your body _I will run a hundred laps if you don't stop getting turned on_ and glaring at himself internally will not wilt growing erections because apparently, he wasn't threatening.

Ironic, that.

Tezuka was one of the most feared tennis players in the high school tennis circuit, and his glare was enough to send the most faint-hearted of players scrambling away for their life, and the one thing that did not seem to be afraid of his patented laser glare was his own... ahem... the Big P (or the Little Tezuka, whichever way people like it).

But _really_, this was getting out of hand. And if he didn't do anything to stop it soon (not that he knew how to stop it, it just made him feel better to think that way), it would turn into probably his biggest problem yet.

Because _it just kept on happening_.

In the most inappropriate places.

In the most unfortunate times.

What's worse was the the cause of said problem had, in no way, shape or form, any idea what he was causing Tezuka's body to do.

Because Fuji, for all his wicked eyes and teasing and flirting, was every bit the innocent little thing that he had been, when Tezuka had first met him, all those years ago, in junior high. And Fuji was all so _unused_ to having Tezuka initiate anything that whenever Tezuka _did_, Fuji would... Fuji would...

Oh, gods.

He would drop his gaze to the ground, long, dainty lashes fanning out on his cheeks. He'd smile, that small, delicate smile that he used whenever he was somehow shy, yet still so incredibly _pleased_ by something that Tezuka had done. And a rosy blush that highlighted everything good about his face (which was pretty much _everything_) would creep up his perfectly-sculpted cheekbones.

Once upon a time, that action pulled at all of Tezuka's little heartstrings, because really, how coldly had he been acting towards Fuji before, if every single act of kindness or love Tezuka tried to do gained him _that_ reaction? They _had_ been friends before, hadn't they? Tezuka was a pretty decent friend, if he did say so himself. Tezuka had been _nice-on-purpose_ to Fuji before, hadn't he?

_Hadn't he?_

...But that was before.

Now, it just turned him on.

And Tezuka was a teenager with crazed hormones, and an equally active body that responded to said hormones and...

Well.

Let's just say that Tezuka can never be peacefully turned on without having any evidence to show for it.

And it has to stop.

Because he was Tezuka Kunimitsu and he had a Reputation with a capital R, and that meant that he can't be spotted in a public place sporting a boner.

He just can't.

But then they would be in a public place, and Fuji would be uneasy about one thing or another and Tezuka would do something nice and Fuji would look... _like that_, and it's all Tezuka can do to keep his limbs steadily glued to his sides so he won't reach out and touch his decidedly beautiful, extremely hot boyfriend.

Oh, and of course (best not forget it), lo and behold, he gets a boner.

This, Tezuka thought, was the ultimate problem with having beautiful boyfriends.

* * *

The first time it happened, they were in a summer outing, together with the previous Seigaku tennis team.

It was mid-morning, and Tezuka was trying to studiously ignore all the splashing and play-fighting that was happening in the pool. He wasn't their captain anymore, and even though Inui tried to sneak a juice mixture into the pool water, and Momo was currently trying to drown Echizen while simultaneously eating a burger, and someone (he didn't know who, probably Eiji) had tried to sneak in the orangutans from some hybrid aquatic zoo park, Tezuka had no good authority to assign laps. Anymore.

Although, he wished he did. Save him money on migraine pills that way.

Well. At least he knew he'd have payback when he finally became captain of the high school tennis team again.

"Kunimitsu!"

Tezuka did not take his gaze of his book, just moved his feet out of the way so Fuji could fling his chlorine-smelling body into the foot of his chaise.

Fuji was undettered by Tezuka's lack of response, settling a wet, gentle arm into Tezuka's thighs. His skin was cool to the touch and Tezuka sighed as he finally looked up from the paragraph he had been trying to read for the past couple of minutes.

Only to find Fuji smiling shyly at him, lashes cast down, rosy blush staining his cheeks as water continually dripped from the still wet strands of his hair. His lashes were stuck to star-like points because of the water, and there they were, fluttering against his high, perfect cheekbones and...

_Oh dear god_.

Tezuka grunted to signal he was listening and very subtly, very inconspicuously dropped the book he had been reading to cover his lap.

"Eiji and the others," Fuji began softly. "Want to try to play out a beach volleyball tourney and I was wondering if we could be partners..?" He ended the statement on a unsure note, gaze darting up to finally meet Tezuka's eyes, still with the blush and the eyes and the perfect pink bow of his mouth and...

"Mitsu?" Fuji leaned in, oblivious to Tezuka's current, rather indelicate predicament. "You're flushed, are you alright?" He coc- (_No cock! Don't say cock!_) _tilted_ his head to the side, looking all that more adorable, worrying his bottom lip in between his teeth.

Tezuka's gaze dropped to Fuji's lips.

"Kunimitsu?"

_Kunimitsu? Who was Kunimitsu?_

Oh.

Right.

Answer. Tezuka was supposed to answer.

"Syusuke," Tezuka sighed. He was about to tell Syusuke no. He'd probably never done that before this day. Actally, no, he was positive he'd never said no before this day. Tezuka rarely refused Fuji anything, and in the few times he did, Fuji was able to talk him into it in the end anyway.

And really, it was not even because Tezuka did not want to play. He looked down and glowered at his lap, as if his hard-on would listen to what he was saying for once and wither away at his glare.

Fuji's hand found its way to his forehead and _oh, for the love of_- Tezuka barely kept himself from shuddering.

"Kunimitsu?" Fuji's voice was the most delicate of touches, fluttering shyly against the skin of Tezuka's cheek.

It only made Tezuka even more turned on.

Fuji moved closer, busily trying to assess Tezuka's health, completely unaware of the reactions he was causing and if Tezuka did not do anything, this had every potential to turn very disastrous very fast because _hello, naked skin_.

But Tezuka was okay.

He was okay because he was a wholesome, chaste, parentally-guided, upstanding human being.

He was just going to think unsexy thoughts. He was going to think thoughts that were not about his (_very close, almost naked, very sexy_) ahem, boyfriend. He was going to take deep, steadying breaths, and he was going to hold himself very, very, _very_ still. He was _THE_ _Tezuka Kunimitsu_ and he was going to will this erection away if it killed him.

That's right, Kunimitsu, control. Control and discipline and fo- _Oh, look, there were water droplets trailing their way down Syusuke's beach shorts. _

_Which were riding very low. _

_On his hips. _

_And very tight. _

_And-_

With as much dignity as Tezuka could muster, Tezuka practically threw his book to Fuji and toppled himself over to the pool in lightning record time. Eiji cheered from the background and cannonballed in, forgetting all about beach volleyball and nearly giving his former doubles partner a heart attack, because _buchou was finally joining in on the fun, oh yeah!_

He decidedly tried to ignore Fuji's bewildered look for the rest of the day.

* * *

It was a crime, Tezuka thought, for Fuji to look so damn sexy and get away with it.

But damn it, his boyfriend was _made_ for winter. There was no end of scarves or hats or gloves that Fuji wanted to try in so many different combinations, it made Tezuka's head spin.

Because Tezuka had to watch him get dressed in them.

And... Well. Tezuka was a teenaged boy. He had hormones. He was high on them, in fact, so really, Tezuka was absolved of any responsibility.

So even if they ended up running all the way to the theater so they won't miss their movie, Fuji's flushed cheeks that had nothing to do with the cold air was more than enough to make up for it.

Fuji bounced on his heels while they were waiting on the relatively long line, practically thrumming with excitement. "So am I paying this time, or are you paying?"

Tezuka gave Fuji a blank look. "Syusuke, I'm not spending good money," _that could be used to buy migraine pills, I'm your boyfriend, the gods know I need it_, "so two hours of my life could be wasted watching man-eating sharks."

"But Kunimitsu!" Fuji's eyes were wide, and still overly eager. "Killer sharks! Killer sharks killing unsuspecting victims on an unsuspecting island getaway! What more could you ask for?"

Tezuka eyed the gaudy movie posters splattered all over the cinema. A four year old child was looking at one of them. And bawling. He was probably scarred for life. There was so much gore in the poster, it could probably rival that shower-stabbing movie. And all it sequels. Combined. "Apparently, you can ask for a remake. In 3D."

"Real live action!" Fuji clapped his hands once, the black beanie he had on slipping to cover half of the upper part of his face. Fuji hurriedly adjusted it as they moved up in line, and Tezuka couldn't help the fond smile tugging the corners of his mouth.

Fuji looked up at him then, and, noticing the softened features, ducked his head, smiled in that really pleased, shy way of his, the rosy tinge in his cheeks becoming even darker, peering up at him through long, lush eyelashes and...

_Oh dear god... _Really? _Here?_ Right before they were supposed to enter a darkened room, and have their arms touching each other on the armrest? Right _after_ they'd messed around in Fuji's room?

_How was that even humanly possible?_

Tezuka coughed subtly, shifting his coat a little farther away from the front of his pants, and tried to think of safe seasons, when Fuji's dress code was a little less... ahem, thought-provoking. But not the PG-13 kind of thoughts. The kind of thoughts that involved a bed, and a locked door, with lots of moaning and screaming, and Fuji made the hottest kind of sounds when-

Damn it, stop that, Kunimitsu. You are in a family place. There! See that four year old kid! This place was child-friendly! Granted, the kid was crying his eyes out because he was being mentally traumatized by the shark-killing gore, but the point still stands. You are in a _movie theater_. About to see a movie. In the dark. With your hot boyfriend sitting right next to-

_SHUT UP, BRAIN._

Summer. Summer was a safe season. It was too hot, so Fuji didn't wear scarves and hats and gloves in the summer.

...Actually, Tezuka thought, thinking back to The Incident during the Seigaku regulars' annual summer outing, Fuji wore _even less_.

Now that Tezuka thought about it, Fuji looked cute buried underneath mounds of clothes that looked several sizes too big for him, and sexy in anything that was tight.

He was screwed however way Fuji was dressed.

Tezuka resisted the urge to slap his face with his palm, and thanked the gods for at least his one small good fortune, because apparently, thick cloaks did _wonders_ in covering what would have been an obvious erection.

* * *

He had a problem.

Honestly, Tezuka was okay with it happening _once_, it was completely justifiable to be turned on in the summer, when your boyfriend is practically half-naked and sharing breathing space with you.

It was another thing to be turned on when your boyfriend was buried under mounds of clothing, right _after_ you and said boyfriend had finished messing around not a few moments earlier.

It was completely extraterrestrial to be turned on during class, practice, tournaments, and student council meetings just because he'd caught a glimpse of Fuji and his pleased-shy smile and blush and _damn it he was starting to get turned on again._

He had a problem. There. He admitted it.

That was Step 1, wasn't it? The first step of trying to fix yourself was to acknowledge that you had a problem.

It said so, in those self-help books. Not that Tezuka would know. Who owned self-help books about how one can _not_ be turned on in not appropriate places?

Not Tezuka.

Okay. So what was Step 2?

Tezuka flipped the page, skimming over the unnecessary paragraphs, and the loud, frankly off-putting slogan – _So you think you're horny?_

No. Tezuka did not think he was horny. Tezuka thought he was a teenager. With crazy hormones.

_Step 2-_

"Kunimitsu?"

Tezuka slammed the book shut and replaced it on the shelf faster than probably the fastest serve in tennis history. Tezuka was proud to be a tennis player. Yes. It meant that he had superb reflexes and an even more superb reaction time. _Very useful_ when one was trying to undergo covert operations in learning how to manuever oneself in front of one's boyfriend in such a way that did not send one's mind down the gutter.

The road that was significantly _not_ less taken by Tezuka's mind, nowadays.

Of course, it helped if one's boyfriend was not also a tennis player. And therefore did not have a keen sense of sight.

"You weren't in the Histo-" Fuji broke off, brows furrowing. "Did the cover of that book you were reading really say _How to Control Your Urges_?"

"For Dummies," Tezuka finished before he could even help himself.

_Damn it._ Hole, swallow me now.

_...Wrong choice of words, Kunimitsu! WRONG!_ Hole in the ground! He meant hole in the ground! Not Fuji's- Oh dear god. Tezuka wanted to kick himself.

Okay, breathe, and erase the last few moments of bad judgement. That's right, Kunimitsu's traumatized brain. Those last few moments did not happen.

"Apologies," Fuji replied, drawing out the last sound, still looking confused and halfway freaked out. "Did the cover of that book you were reading really say _How to Control Your Urges For Dummies_?"

"For tennis," Tezuka said, quickly. "Remember, your brother warned you that you'd always be second to tennis in my life? I'm just trying to prove him wrong."

...Sometimes, even Tezuka was impressed with how smart he was.

"You..." Fuji breathed, eyes wide. "Kunimitsu, did you seriously just admit that you had an obsession for tennis?"

_No, actually, my hormones have an obsession for you._

"Acknowledging your problem is the first step," Tezuka agreed solemnly.

"Oh." Fuji's voice was soft, and, while Tezuka watched, his cheeks started to flare with color.

Tezuka blinked, unsure of what got him this reaction. He tried to think back on the exchange, with perfect 20-20 hindsight, without panicking about Fuji almost catching him reading a self-help book for controlling _sex_ urges.

...Oh.

_Oh._

He'd just basically admitted to Fuji that he was trying to prove to him and his brother that Fuji was more important than tennis in his life.

And, okay, so maybe that wasn't the _best_ way to say it, and certainly not the best situation, and Tezuka had not even realized what he'd been saying, too panicked about covering up his problem to really pay attention, but it was out there now. In a kind of roundabout way.

Of course Fuji would be pleased.

And he was oh so very _pleased_ – high cheekbones coloring up with blush, pleased-shy smile tugging at his lips, ducking his head to the ground, watching Tezuka through fluttering lashes and-

_Oh no_.

_Oh no, why now?_

Tezuka's gaze was immediately drawn to Fuji's lips. His boyfriend's lips. Because Fuji was his boyfriend. Who had lips. That were _really _nice, and how long has it been since they last kissed?

Too damn long.

And that was just horrible, wasn't it, to be deprived like that, especially if Fuji had really nice lips, all perfect, and bow-shaped, and pink and soft, and oh, he made this really nice sound when Tezuka-

Tezuka turned around so fast, he almost stumbled where he stood.

"Okay, let's go."

"Kunimitsu?"

Tezuka pretended to look at his watch- damn it, he left it at home. He took out his phone, and looked at the time. "Going to be late for practice if we don't hurry," he muttered, striding purposefully out of the bookshop, trying to hunch over as much as possible without losing dignity to cover up the erection now persistently pressing against his pants.

Of course, it was only when he was a few minutes away from the bookstore that he realized that it was a _Sunday_.

Fuji caught up to him, and gave him an amused glance, but Tezuka sucked it and raised his nose up in the air, refusing to admit his mistake.

He'd been blushing slightly, though.

But only because his body was a traitor.

* * *

Tezuka sighed. He wanted to bang (_wrong word again!_) ahem, _slam_ (...was there even any _clean_ way to say this?) his head against the wall, really he did.

His hormones were stupid.

His body was stupid, by association.

Tezuka was... well, not stupid, but he certainly had a gutter for brains.

Why did Fuji have to look sexy? Why? Why couldn't he be an ugly troll living in a dungeon basement where he won't be able to mess with Tezuka's bodily urges anymore?

...Okay, so maybe the ugly troll part was pushing it.

On second thought, Fuji would still probably look sexy if he was a troll. Fuji was Fuji like that. He can't ever _not_ be a source of sexual frustration, look at Tezuka! He was the boyfriend and he was _still_ sexually frustrated. He probably would still be sexually frustrated if Fuji was a troll. Or a dolphin. Or a man-eating shark with huge teeth.

Tezuka wold probably be offering himself in a platter, going _Here I am, eat me! But let's have really hot sex first, kay._

God, that had to be the millionth time Tezuka had used the word sex in his head in one month. What was happening to his moral code?

Lust! Lust was the enemy here! He had half a mind to start meditating with the sign No to Lust bold and red in front of him, but he didn't know how he will be able to explain it to his parents.

Or, _god forbid,_ his grandfather.

The sound of laughter drifted up his ears. Tezuka's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

He let himself out of his room and headed towards the kitchen, where he found his mother and Fuji in matching aprons, a platter of cookie dough in between them both. Tezuka opened his mouth in greeting, but Fuji...

Fuji was sucking on his finger, probably trying to clean it off of the cookie mix, but _he was sucking on his finger_, and that's when his eyes turned to Tezuka. Their gazes locked. Fuji's eyes turned devious.

"Oh, Kunimitsu," his mother greeted, waving her cookie cutter in his direction. "Come hel-"

"Excuse me, mother, forgot my book."

With that, Tezuka turned around and hightailed back to his room in record speed, where he went through his full routine of breathing exercises and _resist the temptation, lust is the enemy, no to lust,_ until he felt his body calm down.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way back to the kitchen.

His mother smiled again. This time, it was _her_ eyes that were devious. "Where's your book, Kunimitsu?"

* * *

Fuji really should not be having so much fun with this, he really shouldn't.

But Tezuka was _so cute_ when he was flustered, and well, it wasn't Fuji's fault that Tezuka got turned on. So maybe he noticed that Tezuka acted weird when Fuji gave him a particular look, and maybe he'd been using said look more than usual, but it wasn't _Fuji's_ fault.

Did Fuji tell Tezuka to get turned on? _Of course not._

Besides, he was going to tell Tezuka eventually.

Because, _really_,Fuji was starting to feel guilty, watching Tezuka execute a perfect half turn, practically running all the way back to his room, where he could hide the erection that Fuji caught sight of away from his mother.

Even he had to admit that it was kind of extreme to pretend to not be turned on in front of your own mother. Who laundered your sheets. And did not ask any questions about the funny stains on them the next morning.

...Who was he kidding, Fuji was having the _time of his life._

"You turned him on, didn't you?" Ayana-san asked, playfully swatting him on the shoulder.

Fuji removed his finger from his mouth, wiping it delicately. "Ayana-san, you're awfully invested on your son's sex life."

"Oh, to be young again," Ayana-san sang, her eyes misting over. "I used to do that with Kuniharu, too, you know. Wasn't able to walk properly for a week after he'd found out."

...Hmmm.

Well now.

Maybe he _should_ tell Tezuka after all.

This way, he didn't have to go up to his sometimes obtuse boyfriend, and say upright that _hey, Mitsu, let's go on a real date, as opposed to our frequent tennis not-dates, re-enact the day we became boyfriends and then spend the rest of the night in my room, or yours, I don't really care, and have really hot sex until morning._

Fuji grinned. "I'm counting on it."

* * *

"On _purpose?_"

Fuji's smile widened.

"Since when?"

"Well, Kunimitsu, you're not exactly very subtle when it comes to hiding your feelings. That time in practice, I think? I just noticed that you act weird when I look at you like that." Fuji shrugged, still smiling.

Tezuka opened his mouth and closed it, unsure of what to say.

"And then I realized that you were acting weird because you were turned on and..." Fuji shrugged again. "It was funny."

"Was it now?" Tezuka asked, an unholy light rising up his eyes.

Fuji nodded. "Hilarious."

Tezuka growled and pulled Fuji over to him, calling him a "little imp" before smashing their lips together in a bruising kiss.

Tezuka knew that he should be angry at Fuji. He knew he should probably be lecturing or shouting at Fuji right now for letting Tezuka agonize all those nights, wondering if he was becoming a nympho. Really, he did.

However, technically, no one could shout at anyone else when their mouth was busy doing other more important things, and their blood (and mind) was busy rushing to the organ that needed it the most and right now, that was most definitely _not_ the brain. Tezuka really couldn't get angry when his head was busy concentrating on something more gratifying than that.

Science has proven it.

Scientifically.

And Fuji... Well, Fuji lost the ability to form any thought entirely.

And okay, maybe Fuji had to hobble like an old man for a few days afterward, and _maybe_ it took a week to get Tezuka to stop glaring at him, and _maybe_ from then on, every time he tried to pull on that look, Tezuka only looked at him with a face that said _I am so unimpressed with you right now_, but whatever, Fuji was funny.

* * *

So there's this video on Youtube about this kid with a toy bow and arrow, only he still can't say it properly and in the end, it sounds like boner. Like: "What have you got?" "A boner!" "Go ask your mom how to shoot it, she taught me how to shoot mine!" The guys in my Microbio lecture are crazy over it. And the song that goes, what does the fox say? I have to listen to it on repeat _every single fucking day_.

This is probably the only sane explanation as to why I'm going crazy right now. I'm sorry. They're sorry, too.

But if you guys have time, drop by and tell me what you think? :)

/silverglitters


End file.
